


The Best Laid Plans

by theunicornandtheraven



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Sherlolly Valentine’s Day Fic-a-thon 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunicornandtheraven/pseuds/theunicornandtheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly's first date with Sherlock doesn't end anything like she'd expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Written for visenyasdragons for the 2014 Sherlolly Valentine's Fic-a-Thon. Thank you to the-doctor-wtf for beta reading!

Molly nearly dropped the test tube in her hand. “What?”

“You heard me,” Sherlock said without looking up from the microscope. He continued examining the slide as if he hadn’t blurted out a bombshell after a half hour of silence in the lab.

“You want to go on a date with me?” Molly said slowly.

“Didn’t I make that clear when I asked you?”

“A date? A proper one?” She wished he’d stop paying so much attention to the mold on the slide. If he’d looked her in the eye, she might have believed that there wasn’t a case involved.

“Yes. Dinner. That’s what people do isn’t it?” Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He liked Molly because he didn’t have to repeat himself for her, and his question was not nearly as complicated as the work she did every day.

“But I didn’t think- I mean, you-” She blushed and fiddled with the rubber test tube cap, rolling it around in her gloved hands. “I’ve liked you for years, Sherlock. Why now?”

He looked up from the microscope, his eyes soft. The expression wasn’t the kicked puppy look he used when he wanted body parts; Molly had seen that one enough times. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was showing honest-to-god vulnerability. 

“I’ve been an idiot for a long time, and I’m sorry.”

“I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

“Angelo’s. I’ll pick you up at half-seven.” He returned his attention to the mold sample, not quite able to hide a grin. On the other side of the worktable, Molly bit down a smile and busied herself with a chemical test.

Even when they sat down at the table that night, Molly still didn’t quite believe it. Sherlock was even eating. She’d just opened her menu when his phone went off. Molly’s heart sank. Sherlock’s eyes lit up as he read the message, and she slumped further into her seat. Of course there had to be a case.

“Serial killer, apparently using his victim’s skin as parchment. I’m going to need you in the lab for this one, Molly,” he said, getting up and putting his coat on.

He left the restaurant so quickly she’d had to jog to keep up with him. Fifteen minutes later, she’d replaced her dress and heels with borrowed scrubs and a ponytail.

Two hours later, she dropped into her desk chair. Sherlock had left for the crime scene a while back. Her date ruined, she figured she might as well start on the paperwork while she was already at work.

A half hour after that, Sherlock returned to the mortuary with another victim and a cup of coffee for her. Molly logged off the computer and sipped it gratefully, steeling herself to remain awake for another few hours. Sherlock, scowling into the microscope, hardly said two words to her.

After midnight, he left the lab with a request for her to text him the results he needed. She stitched up the second corpse in a silent morgue.

At three in the morning, he returned with new samples to test. She’d come perilously close to falling asleep at her desk. He’d arrived a little flushed, his curls mussed up, and grinning. The sight made her smile, but she reminded herself that dating Sherlock Holmes was not going to work out.

Half an hour later, she looked up from her desk to see him talking to a beaker, holding it up to the light to get a better view of the precipitate at the bottom. His eyes sparkled.

“Oh, that is fantastic,” he was saying.

“Solved it then?” she said. She stood up to take a look, almost afraid to hope that she could finally go home and sleep.

“It was the sister-in-law. She’s planted convincing evidence that it might be her brother. Lestrade was about to arrest him, but this should be enough to exonerate him,” he said, pulling out his phone. His fingers flew across the keyboard.

She slumped against the counter and closed her eyes, glad she wouldn’t have to autopsy another victim. “Thank goodness.”

“Get your coat. I’ll see you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

He stopped typing and looked up at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. “John said that’s what you’re supposed to do on dates.”

“This really wasn’t much of a date, was it?” she said with a sad smile.

Sherlock had never felt so stupid. He’d followed all of John’s advice and thought he’d been doing well. “Molly, I’m so sorry. I-”

Forcing her eyes open, she dragged herself away from the counter. She smiled and cleared away some of the glassware sitting out. “I don’t mind. Catching serial killers is pretty brilliant, too.”

Sherlock unplugged the microscope and wound the cord around the base. He kept his eyes down, afraid to look at her. “We could try again tonight.”

Molly, halfway to the sink, stopped in her tracks. “You want to?”

“Yes. The same place and time as yesterday?”

“Sounds perfect as long as no one else gets murdered,” she said, smiling as she rinsed out the beakers.

With the microscope in one hand, Sherlock walked over to her. “Molly, I…”

“Yes?” She turned around, surprised to see him standing so close to her.

“I know this doesn’t count as a date, we haven’t left, and it’s now the morning, but I was wondering if a goodnight kiss would still be-”

She closed the space between them, getting up on tiptoe to kiss him. All of the lost sleep was worth the look of happy bewilderment on his face when she pulled away.

“Answer your question?” she said, her hand still resting on his chest.

“I think so. Let’s get you home.”

Molly locked up the lab and left with her hand in Sherlock’s. She smiled up at him, wondering if maybe they had a chance after all.


End file.
